Fallen from Grace
by Avelera
Summary: Years after all of his friends have died, Drizzt Do'Urden goes back to his roots. Thinking only to escape the harsh world above, he takes his first step on the road to rediscovering himself. AU as of "Servant of the Shard"
1. The Noble Savage

Chapter 1: The Noble Savage  
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to RA Salvatore except for the plot and any new characters I might introduce which you should be able to spot. The song is Everything You Want by Vertical Horizon.  
  
A/N: OK, this is my first serious Forgotten Realms fic (i.e. I'm going to work twice as hard to get it good). Its supposed to be sad but I dunno if it really is. Please read and review. Oh, by the way, these are not song-fics the song lyrics at the top are only to set a mood. If you think the one I've put in doesn't fit and/or you've got a recommendation put the song title and author in the review.  
  
But under skinned knees and the skid marks  
Past the places where you used to learn  
You howl and listen  
Listen and wait for the  
Echoes of angels who won't return   
  
"Everything You Want" by Vertical Horizon  
-----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Through the dense forest the Hunter stalked, though what it did not know, or whether it was chasing or fleeing was beyond its savage thoughts for even its sense of self, the knowledge of who it was had been lost long ago. Its clothes were torn and ragged and through the tears black skin could be seen though whether it was the Hunter's natural skin color or just dirt was now impossible to tell. It was the same for its hair, tangled and matted with dreadlocks and leaves until its original color was also completely hidden.   
  
Except for the dreams, it lived a simple but harsh life: eating what it could bring down, sleeping when it was too exhausted to go further and living solely on its indomitable will to carry on, to survive. It was now wandering aimlessly, with no goal in mind when its sharp ears picked up the distant sounds of humanity.  
  
It suddenly changed directions, catching its rags on a thorn bush. It tore the cloth away but stopped and gathered the traces of its passing, though why it did not know or care. Ahead of it the forest began to thin and finally gave way to an open hillside. The Hunter turned to go back into the safety of the forest but something higher, more civilized then Hunter's savage instincts took over and pushed its beaten body up the hill. From the top a small village could be seen. Again the Hunter tried to turn back but the inner force pushed it forward, down the slope and into the outskirts of the village.   
  
The Hunter neared the outermost house when the sound of a slamming door rang through the air and sent the Hunter instantly into a guarded stance. The pounding of feet up the path that ran around the house brought its weapons out it in a flash. A small figure rounded the corner and the Hunter exploded into action. With one deft movement it caught the figure around the waste and put its blade right against the its throat.  
  
A small girl-child stared up at him; her eyes and mouth wide open with shock, her body rigid in his arms. She suddenly gave a terrified scream that echoed and reverberated though the air like a banshee's keen. It went on and on and the Hunter in desperation brought the blade closer to her throat to make her be silent but she only shrieked louder. It snarled at her and brought up the blade for a killing stroke when the screaming stopped. The Hunter stared down in astonishment to see what had stopped the terrible cries and saw that the little girl's eyes had rolled back into her head, covering the blue of her eyes and wisps of her flame-red hair curled across her still face.  
  
A voice roared up from the depths of the Hunter's mind and a scream erupted from him as it had the little girl.  
  
*Murderer! Did you enjoy the dying child's screams? Child-killer....*  
  
"No!" the Hunters scream ended and the single word rang resounded through the air.   
  
Drizzt dropped his scimitars in the dust and frantically began to check the child for signs of life. He quickly found that she was still alive and picking her up as if she was made of spun glass he carried her to the house from which she had just emerged.  
  
*So much like Catti-brie* he thought, a pang of anguish coursing through him, causing him to shudder. Setting her down gently on the doorstep he walked back to where his fallen scimitars lay.   
  
He heard the door behind him creak open and a hysterical voice say "Oh gods, my baby!"  
  
"Stop right there, you!" a male voice shouted. Drizzt broke into a run, snatching up the fallen scimitars and sprinted back into the safety of the forest. He wanted to stay, to tell the people it was all right and there daughter was unharmed, he wanted to be there when the girl woke up to apologize but most of all he wanted to thank her for pulling him out of the savagery he had been living in. But to his horror he discovered that the Hunter was returning and there was no time, no time...   
  



	2. Fallen Angel

Chapter Two: Fallen Angel  
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to RA Salvatore except for the plot and any new characters I might introduce which you should be able to spot. The song is "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" by Andrew Lloyd Webber from the musical 'Phantom of the Opera'. Oh, and *looks around guiltily* I know that elves don't dream but I'm going to use a little poetic license here and say that Drizzt does so you don't have to point it out *when* you review.  
  
A/N: I'd like to thank all the people... okay the two people who reviewed this story first; those reviews meant a lot to me. Ok, this is the chapter where you find out part of what's happened to Drizzt. Oh yeah, this has a few spoilers in it from Sojourn and Passage to Dawn through Spine of the World. The whole story will make more sense if you read all of the books up to and including Servant of the Shard or else be prepared for spoilers. Reviews make me type faster and I'm not just saying that so here goes.  
  
Wishing you were somehow here again  
Wishing you were somehow near  
Sometimes it seems  
If I just dreamed,  
Somehow you would be here...  
  
"Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again "by Andrew Lloyd Webber, from "Phantom of the Opera"  
______________________  
  
Days became weeks and weeks turned to months and little by little Drizzt began to remember himself and what had driven him to become the Hunter. It was just flashes at first, the sound of Zaknafein's voice, Belwar clapping his makeshift hands together sending sparks leaping into the air... and Guenhwyvar. Once he dreamt of the great panther, felt her warm bulk and the velvet softness of her fur but he had woken up to find himself alone, that it was just a dream and he had not regained the statuette used to summon her that he had lost so long ago.  
  
And the memories kept coming, starting from his childhood in Menzoberranzan and working their way up through his life. He had screamed suddenly as Zak once again walked into the pit of acid and laughed allowed when the memory of Bruenor faking his own death to bring Drizzt with him to find Mithral Hall.   
  
The Hunter was receding, going back to the dim reaches of Drizzt subconscious when the remembered voice of his sister Vierna screamed:  
  
"All your pitiful friends are dead!"  
  
Drizzt fell to his knees, grasping his head and moaning with the agony of keeping the Hunter at bay but it in vain. His eyes grew cold and savage, with not an ounce of feeling contained with in them. Weapons flashed as the sun dance across them. The Hunter looked around in search of an enemy, glorying in the use of its limbs and began to retreat into the thick of the woods, as far away from civilization as it could go and this time it didn't bother to cover the signs of its passing.  
_____________________________  
  
After two days of wandering the Hunter had finally dropped in exhaustion among the roots of an enormous oak tree but the savage's exhaustion didn't prevent Drizzt, who was buried deeply in its subconscious, from dreaming and these dreams put the last piece into the puzzle of his past...  
  
*The world was separated between the fire of the great demon Errtu and the ice cavern the company fought him in. Drizzt's black scimitar had left numerous scars across the demon's scaly hide and Wulfgar was in a near berserk rage as he faced his torturer. They themselves had not escaped unscathed though. Bruenor was lightly stunned after being thrown by a blast of power into the nearest wall and all of them had at least one slash or burn where the demon's claws had nicked them and where his fiery breathed had grazed them. Regis was off looking for help, with Guenhwyvar with to protect him, in Ten-Towns, since in a fight of this scale he was only a liability and they needed all the help they could get.   
  
Errtu gave a sudden roar that shook the caverns, dropping icy stalactites perilously close to the companions. Around the cavern a dozen imps sprang up seemingly out of the ground.   
  
"Fall back!" yelled Drizzt, running to take cover and regroup being a huge ice wall. Catti-brie retreated, shooting her silver arrows at the incoming imps as she went. Drizzt looked back over his shoulder to see Bruenor and Wulfgar locked in combat with a half a dozen imps.   
  
"Stop!" bellowed Errtu, pointing to Wulfgar, "This one is mine," he began to advance upon on the furious barbarian. Wulfgar stopped his mad assault and turned and with a cry to Tempus hurled Aegis-fang end over end at the demon.  
  
Errtu watched the oncoming war hammer with an evil smile then, just as it was about to hit him square in the face, he snatched it out of the air. The demon kept coming, as inexorable as an avalanche, until he was towering over the huge barbarian with the mighty hammer still grasped in his fist.  
  
"Aegis-fang!" shouted the barbarian, his hand outstretched to retrieve it but it was secured firmly in Errtu's grasp and could not.   
  
The demon reached down casually and picked up Wulfgar around the waist as if he was no more then a child and held him an inch from his face. "It's a pity that you will no longer be able to supply me with amusement as you did before," he looked over the barbarians shoulder and into Drizzt horror-stricken violet eyes, "This time no more games." And began to tighten his grip on Wulfgar.  
  
*This can't be happening* thought Drizzt, who was frozen in terror for Wulfgar's life *Where's Regis?! He was supposed to get help!*  
  
Wulfgar gave a moan of pain and cried weakly to Aegis-fang but still the war hammer did not appear. Then the sound of snapping bones filled the cavern.  
  
"Aegis fang..." whispered Wulfgar one last time before Errtu's mighty snapped his backbone. Errtu gazed down at the broken corpse in his and a smile of satisfaction spread across his hideous face. Casting the body of Wulfgar at the feet of his friends.  
  
Suddenly Catti-brie began to scream. It reverberated around the cavern, gaining in pitch. She didn't even stop to take a breath just went on screaming and screaming. Bruenor stared at the body of the boy who had been his son in everything but birth, whispering over and over, "Me boy, me boy, me boy..." the chant joining Catti-brie's screams to form a frightening funeral dirge.  
  
But Drizzt was silent. It was because of him Wulfgar died and his mind was already moving past the death and on to the avenging of his friend and former pupil. This time he didn't even pause to become the Hunter but went right on past it until he was the Warrior. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Catti-brie was still screaming but her anguished cries were punctuated by the sound of Taulmaril's arrows exploding into the chests of the imps.   
  
Errtu watched with demonic glee as Drizzt approached. But something in the ranger's face disturbed the demon. His eyes were fierce and at the same time emotionless as if he were untouched by the recent death of his friend and was only focused on the destruction of the demon before him. The whole effect gave Drizzt a look of celestial fury and Errtu knew he had only seen this look before in the eyes of an avenging angel.   
  
Drizzt seem to go from a guarded stationary position to a lighting quick assault in the blink of an eye. Using Twinkle only to parry and doing all of his attacks with the black demon-slaying scimitar he leaped and slashed at Errtu's face leaving to deep gashes in his cheek that revealed the teeth beneath. Before the demon could retaliate Drizzt buried his scimitar up to the hilt in Errtu's stomach, the sound and smell of burning flesh quickly became overpowering, then withdrew the sword in one smooth motion.  
  
Errtu, wielding Wulfgar's hammer, brought it up for a blow that would squash the dark elf flat but when the hammer came whistling down the drow ranger was no longer there.   
  
Drizzt took advantage of the demon's momentary confusion to send a desperate prayer for assistance to Mielikki, hoping his situation was desperate enough for her to grant him the power to destroy Errtu.  
  
Errtu spun around and once again brought swept the hammer down again. Drizzt made a desperate attempt to dodge the powerful blow and was caught as it pinned his cloak to the ground.  
  
Errtu gave a howl of triumph, leering down at the captured elf, "You will die, elf, and once you are dead nothing will stop me from killing everyone you love."  
  
That was the worst thing that Errtu could have possibly said. For even in his present state this declaration reached right into Drizzt core and extracted one last boost of adrenaline. Drizzt exploded into action, slicing off the interfering cloak and with one powerful leap bringing up his scimitars for a slice across Errtu's throat.  
  
Time slowed... Drizzt felt like he was floating as he rose.   
In the distance a unicorn whinnied and suddenly the blades burst into pure white flame. Errtu's eye widened in disbelief as the scimitars swept down slicing through the scaly hide, right through the muscles and tendons until they hit bone. They blades went through it like a warm knife through butter.  
  
Time sped up again; Drizzt hit the ground as a fountain of blood spurted up from the stump where the demon's head used to be. The whole blasted couldn't have lasted longer then a candle mark but Drizzt sank slowly to the ground in exhaustion. The remaining imps gave bone-chilling shrieks as they were dragged back down to the Abyss.   
  
Catti-brie and Bruenor ran up to the broken body of Wulfgar. Catti-brie was still sobbing. Even Bruenor wept over the body of his son, the tears disappearing in his beard.  
  
Suddenly everything became warped, Bruenor voice went high then low and the same sob erupted three times from Catti-brie. Drizzt realized he was waking up and struggled to hold on to it, even if it was a dream...a nightmare! He wanted to stay with his friends in a place where he was not a fallen angel and they were all still alive but the dream was slipping away like a fistful of sand...*  
  
Drizzt awoke and he remembered everything. The early years, the fight, their deaths everything even his own fall from grace that had left him at the mercy of his dark side, at the mercy of the Hunter.  
  
But the Hunter was gone now, driven for good out of Drizzt's mind with the returning of the memories. And now there was nothing standing between him and the world. And nothing left to protect him from it.   
  
A/N: Not everything has been revealed yet so I suggest you write a review and give me a reason to finish this fic.  



	3. Every Road's Beginning

Chapter 3: Every Road's Beginning   
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to RA Salvatore except for the plot and any new characters I might introduce which you should be able to spot. Umm... that's enough of that.  
  
A/N: Well, here's another chapter. It's a little more low-key then the others but it's necessary. By the way, I really suck at doing Catti-brie's accent but I'll do my best. Anyway, please review!  
  
He says he looks in the mirror  
And he can't tell anymore  
Who he really is and who they believe him to be  
He says he walks a thin line  
Between what is and what could be  
And he's getting closer to something he can't stand  
  
'Magical Sandcastle' by Lifehouse  
_________________________  
  
Drizzt slowly opened his eyes feeling both despair and relief as the details of the nightmare faded. Now that he had regained the memory of what had happened that fateful day however he also recollected what had happened afterwards. But there was no time for that, he needed to return to the world now, he needed to discover what events had taken place during his absence but first he needed to learn of how those years of savagery had effected him physically  
  
The air of the forest was moist and Drizzt didn't need to go far before he came across a small pond. Bending tentatively over the edge Drizzt looked into the placid waters of the pond and caught sight of his reflection. He stared, the years of hard living had not been kind to him. His startling purple eyes were all the more so now that they seemed to take up most of his gaunt face. His cheekbones stood out prominently and his cheeks were hollow. A scar that he didn't remember receiving streaked across his cheek but it was almost hidden under the dirt.  
  
Ripping a piece of his already tattered sleeve of Drizzt proceeded to scrub his face as best as he could. Then there was the problem of his hair. It had much longer, reaching past his shoulders and half way down his back but it was so tangled with leaves and dirt that it was almost impossible to tell it had once been as white as new fallen snow. Even if Drizzt had had some sort of brush he would never been able to take out all of the tangles. With a sigh Drizzt pulled a small dagger out of his boot and methodically began to cut the hair away and as he did his mind wandered...  
  
*Snip, snip*  
  
Just as the battle with Errtu ended Regis returned with at least a score of barbarians.  
  
*Snip, snip*  
  
But by then it had been too late. At the sight of the fallen Wulfgar, Regis let out a small sob and started running to him half racing half slipping across the icy floor.   
  
*Snip, snip*   
  
A few feet away Drizzt stood feeling like he had passed through exhaustion and come out on the other side. He waved his hand a bit vaguely towards the entrance of the cavern to indicate to the barbarians that they should leave. Taking the hint they had left the cave as respectfully as the could and left the body of their fallen leader to his friends.  
  
*Snip, snip*  
  
In the present tears at the memory flooded Drizzt eyes but he blinked them away. It was the past now but the rest of the scene continued to replay itself.  
  
*Snip, snip*   
  
Catti-brie, her face streaked with soot and tears had looked at him despair clearly etched in her face, "He's really gone this time. I don't...I can't believe it. Even with the...the yochlol I could at least pretend that he was alive, that he had survived. But now he's really dead. Oh, Drizzt!" she had collapsed in his arms, sobbing even harder. It lasted a few minutes then she looked up from his arms and over to the severed head of Errtu lying in a pool of demon blood. "Ye killed it," she stated, regaining a little of her composure.   
  
*Snip, snip*  
  
"Yes, and if could I would do it again, slowly" he had said grimly.  
  
Catti-brie had pulled herself out of his arms stared at him with wide, frightened eyes, "Don't be talkin' like that, Drizzt. It isn't like ye."  
  
*Snip, snip*   
  
Drizzt winced slightly at the memory. Never had he felt more like his drow-kin then in that moment. No, when evil was fought you killed it in one quick stroke. Only evil itself killed slowly, for revenge or enjoyment, it didn't matter. And in that moment Catti-brie's eyes had reflected him as the very thing he struggled his entire life to keep from becoming.   
  
*Snip, snip*  
  
He had gathered her up in his arms again whispering, "I'm sorry," over and over again. She had returned the embrace and there they had stood holding each other as if each were a lifeline, staring at the body of their fallen friend.  
  
Shaking his head to dismiss the haunting reverie, Drizzt put the makeshift scissors back in his boot and stared back into the pond. Why didn't any of the Hunter's features show in his face, he wondered. Shaking his head more violently he turned his attention back to his handiwork.  
  
Only about an inch of his once long hair remained. The unfamiliar feeling of the breeze against the back of his neck felt good. Gathering up his tattered cloak and taking a quick sip of water to quench his thirst Drizzt continued on his journey back to civilization wondering vaguely if the return of his memories would mend or shatter his spirit.  
  
A/N: I'm not very proud of this chapter, it's really just for transition. Oh yeah, I know that the sound of a dagger cutting hair is not 'snip' I was just trying to portray the fact that he was cutting his legendary locks. And as always, please review.   



	4. Rumors and Resolutions

Chapter: Rumors and Resolutions   
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to RA Salvatore except for the plot and any new or minor characters I might introduce which you should be able to spot.   
  
A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. It's a little lighter then the others and contains a few (probably bad) attempts at humor and a twist at the end. By the way, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed and give them a big cyber hug. Oh, especially one for Salak *hugs*.  
  
I started out clean but I'm jaded  
Just folding it in  
Just breaking my skin  
Can you help me, I'm bent  
I'm so scared that I'll never   
Get put back together  
  
Bent by Matchbox Twenty  
_________________________  
  
"Would ye like another drink there, matey?" serving wench asked the dark, solitary figure in a voice that was supposed to sound enthusiastic but by this hour of the night was simply bored. The lone man waved her away, indicating that he hadn't even sipped from his first round. The wench muttered something to herself and went off to serve another 'matey'.   
  
The tavern itself was called the 'Drunken Sailor' and was designed to make men of that occupation feel at home. Even though it was a port city most sailor's avoided it since when they came in from the sea they weren't too anxious to be hailed as 'matey' and 'landlubber'; it got on their nerves.   
  
Tonight the tavern was actually a bit fuller then usual. Supposedly a wandering bard was looking for lodgings and would entertain the common room to pay his keep. The rumor proved true and within a few minutes a rather nervous looking fellow with a long nose and a slight tick in his left eye stood up on a crate in front of the room.  
  
"I say, I say, can everyone hear me?" he called out, though only a few men looked up, not including the dark stranger who was still bent over his mug.   
  
"To...tonight I shall be telling the tale of the two lovers..." he was drowned out by a chorus of boo's around the tavern. "Oh. Not a favorite I see," he giggled nervously. "Let's see... in that case I will be telling the tale of the mythical hero..." he looked around waiting for more signs of distaste and continued, after hearing none, "The tale of the mythical hero, Drizzt Do'Urden!"  
  
Silence. Drizzt himself, wrapped tightly in his dark cloak finally looked up from his tankard to stare in shock at the man. But the tale-spinner seemed to take confidence from the silence and with a dramatic clearing of his throat he began. "Almost a century ago, before you or I were born and during which our own sires were only youngsters, no older then your own children, there lived a great hero, a drow ranger, by the name of Drizzt Do'Urden."  
  
"Now, it would take a greater man then me to fully give justice to this tale..." he was drowned out again by a chorus of 'aye's and 'Ye got that right, chicken legs!' Once the pandemonium died down the man once again cleared his throat and continued, "Yes, as I was saying, it would take a greater man then myself to give full justice to this tale but I would feel most honored to be allowed to tell it unto you this night," he struck a pose and without further ado began his tale.   
  
It turned out the man's modesty was indeed false for in a few minutes his audience was spellbound by the sound of his voice. The tale he wove was wondrous; it fairly painted a picture of the great dragon Hephaestus whom the cunning renegade-drow had defeated not with his sword but by his wits. It told of wicked sorcerers and somehow managed to make even the Harpells sound not only heroic but mentally stable as well. All in all Drizzt wished he had seen some of the battles the man claimed he had fought and won. He unconsciously began to trace old scars he had received from some of the more recognizable ones, scars the storyteller seemed to brush over the receiving of.   
  
Two hours later Drizzt began to feel sick as he realized they were nearing the final battle with Errtu. Maybe, he thought, just maybe he doesn't know of it or believes it to have been done by someone else. But Drizzt knew deep down that the man had not and began to withdraw into himself, to turn off his senses until he had entered an almost dream-like state where he was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. Just before he did enter the trance which serves elves instead of actual sleep he heard a man yell, "And what about after the battle with the King of the Abyss? What happened to Drizzt Dudden after that?"  
  
"I'm glad you asked that my friend," replied the storyteller, "For after that great encounter, Drizzt was seen off and on for nearly twenty years before he died," a gasp ran around the room.  
  
"How did he die?" asked one of the serving girls, who had become thoroughly engrossed in the story.  
  
"Well, my lady, it is not truly known. Some suspect that the evil minions of the Demon Lord had their revenge and dragged him down into the Abyss to live in torment for eternity. Others say that his goddess took him directly into her arms. But there are some..." he lay a sly finger on the side of his long nose, "There are some who claim that he is still alive. And perhaps he is, my friends, perhaps he is in here at this very moment listening in on our tale," Drizzt looked up sharply, fearing he might have been discovered but the taleteller had taken no notice of him and was now taking his bows and holding out his hat for any extra tips that the patrons wished to give him.  
  
Once the crowd the crowd had dispersed enough Drizzt followed the bard up to his quarters and before he went in the room laid a gloved hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Tell me," he whispered into the startled mans ear, "How did Drizzt Do'Urden die?"  
  
The man spun around quickly with a frightened grin on his face, "Well, like I said in the common room..." he started but Drizzt pulled out a small dagger holding it right against the man's throat repeated the question.  
  
The grin melted off the man's face and he said in a much more oratorical tone, "Well, my friend, he in fact did not die because he never lived! The actual character was just a story written long ago by a bemused poet most likely who wanted to entertain the masses like those plebeians below with the story of a recognizable anomaly. I myself have meet a drow and the idea of one becoming a *ranger* of all things is preposterous! But there are a few misguided fools out there who believe that he might have lived and the dwarves of Mithral Hall staunchly believe that he and that Bruenor Battlehammer rediscovered their dwarven homeland. Nonsense really, as mythical as the lost city of Ascarle," he finished as if ending a lecture to a particularly dim-witted student before remembering the presence of the dagger and promptly paling.   
  
"Are there any reliable sources that proves that he actually existed?" pressed Drizzt.  
  
The man gulped and nearly nicked his Adam's apple. "Only the diaries of the late Ruler of Silverymoon, Alustriel, may she rest in peace," he gasped.  
  
The bard thought he heard a sharp intake of breath and a choked sob come from inside the hood but he couldn't be sure, "Alustriel is dead?" came a hoarse whisper  
  
The storyteller nodded as much as he dared, "More then a decade ago. She out lived nearly all of her sisters, you know. A fine lady, right up to the end, I saw her at a distance once," there it was again, the quickly stifled sob. "Please, my good sir, it is late and I am weary. Good night," he turned to leave but Drizzt once again grabbed his shoulder forcefully but this time the effort caused his hood to drop just as the taleteller turned around.   
  
The bard stared up at him in absolute horror, his left eye twitching madly as his gaze ran up and down the drow before him. His mouth opened and closed like a fish on the beach gasping for air. Before he could cry out for help Drizzt raised his hand in a peaceful gesture to calm him.  
  
"You need not fear. *I* am Drizzt Do'Urden. I merely needed some information," he said sadly, but to no affect. This meant nothing to the bard, who had recovered his voice and was yelling at the top of his lungs for help. When the storyteller looked again though, the dark elf was gone.   
_______________________  
  
As Drizzt fled the tavern he realized that once again his heritage had come back to haunt him. With his supposed death not only had he lost all that he had worked so hard to gain but also was now only remembered as a fairy tale. But this time he had not the strength to rise again from the ashes, to re-declare that unlike his brethren he was not evil. There was only one place left for him, the very thought of sent shivers of disgust down his spine for long ago he had left there and never looked back but then he had been untarnished, naïve but strong and shining with the light of his beliefs.   
  
But there was no other alternative, nowhere else to go. With a leaden heart Drizzt resolved to return to the place of his birth. To once again return to the vilest of cities, Menzoberranzan.   
A/N: Yes, Drizzt has decided to return to Menzoberranzan and this time not to save his friends. Please don't flame me. Oh and those of you who have read Tangled Webs know that the city of Ascarle is not lost. That was actually a hint for anyone who picked it up but anyway please review!  



	5. Homecoming

Chapter Five: Homecoming  
  
Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, everything belongs to RA Salvatore, blah, blah, blah.  
  
A/N: Sorry it's taking more time to put up chapters. The computer in the dorms was broken so I can only post on school days. Plus, the plot is thickening! Hence it's getting harder to write! Big cyber hug to everybody who has or will be reviewing (hint hint, nudge nudge). Especially to Salak, Kris and AngelDragonStar. Note to Kris: Write your e-mail or something, I'd like to talk to you.  
  
Backbeat the word is on the street   
That the fire in your heart is out  
I'm sure you've heard it all before   
But you never really had a doubt  
I don't believe that anybody feels  
The way I do about you now  
And all the roads we have to walk are winding  
And all the lights that light the way are blinding  
There are many things that I would  
Like to say to you but I don't know how  
  
'Wonderwall' by Oasis  
___________________   
  
Nine feet high, the entrance of the black cave loomed, hidden by fallen rocks on the side of the hill. Stalactites and stalagmites lined the outside giving it the appearance of a gaping maw ready to swallow any who dared continue on. Rain coated the outside like blood around a dead man's mouth.   
  
Peering inside, Drizzt could see that more spikes lined the floor and ceiling of the cave, outlined by glowing fungi that gave off an eerie green light. Slowly, hesitantly, Drizzt stepped forward towards the stone floor of the cave.  
  
*I can't do it, * he thought, half despising himself for his weakness but also half hoping the weakness would reveal enough will to turn around, *I can't give up the sun. I can't betray my friends, I can't betray myself! * He thought desperately. But deep in the darkest reaches of his heart he knew he could betray them, everyone, and that he would.  
  
*They're dead, * he flinched, *They're dead and cannot help you, and no amount of wishing or dreaming will bring them back. They can't affect you anymore. You *must* move on, * these thoughts came in a ruthless torrent, from somewhere near where the Hunter once lurked.   
  
"Forgive me," he whispered and began his journey down the path to Menzoberranzan.   
  
*Help me... *  
____________________  
  
It was dark. As dark as the ebony skin of its inhabitants, as dark as the souls of those lost beyond redemption. This darkness spoke of immortality through the death of others and the abhorrence of light for it sucked away any that was not caused by its own, be it drow magic or the glowing fungi that outlined the razor sharp stalactites.   
  
Drizzt knew that he must have traveled miles but he had lost all sense of direction except down. Suddenly a thought occurred to him.  
  
* I don't have to go to Menzoberranzan, not while Blindenstone still stands. Maybe Belwar still lives, at least some of the younger ones will remember me! * he though hopefully. This was his last chance and he would take it no matter how slim it was. And maybe, just maybe, the deep gnomes would help him find enough goodness inside to help him return to the sunlight.   
  
Gradually the path became more familiar until Drizzt imagined that he could hear the tapping of the gnomes while they mined. His excitement mounting, Drizzt turned the corner ready to see his first glance in years of the hewn city of Blindenstone when suddenly he yelled in shock and agony.  
  
Light. White, blinding light filled the caverns but instead of dieing out it grew stronger. It glowed red through Drizzt's lids until, what in reality was only a few minutes but for Drizzt felt like an eternity, it went out.  
  
Slowly, in anticipation for another attack, Drizzt opened his lavender eyes ready to snap them shut again at a moments notice. Nothing happened. He took a tentative step forward, still nothing.   
  
At this point Drizzt realized he had most likely stumbled upon a trap that he had been previously unaware of. A flare of light that powerful in the Underdark could be used to deadly effect and a mere flash of it would be enough to blind any intruders. It wasn't just a flash of light but also of extreme heat so even those who used the infrared spectrum would have been stunned, if not permanently blinded. Only his years on the surface had protected Drizzt from losing his sight altogether as he guessed many others had.   
  
Drizzt continued on but this time more cautiously. There was a light whistling sound and he quickly shut his eyes and threw his cloak over his head just in time to miss being temporarily blinded yet again by another flash of light.  
  
*It must be to keep out any seeking to enter Blindenstone, * Drizzt thought, *But why have a defense that could blind your own people as well as intruders? * It made no sense; this was a mining road, far to narrow for an army to enter. An idea suddenly occurred to Drizzt and he gasped aloud before racing down path, squinting slightly to keep out the light, arm poised to shield his eyes.   
  
*This was not meant to keep intruders out, it was meant to keep the gnomes in! *   
  
But in his haste Drizzt forgot about the possibility of other traps. A faint click sounded and suddenly a net of steel mesh rose as if by magic from the floor carrying Drizzt up with it, and held him at the top of the cavern in a neat sack. It was so sudden that when the net came to a standstill Drizzt was still blinking in shock.   
  
*Fool! * He thought, chastising himself. The chains were fine but strong and the renegade-drow could see no way of escaping. Drizzt hung in there, not having much choice in the matter. After a while he started to swear.  
________________  
  
Drizzt awoke to the sound of heavy boots pounding on the stone floor. He had tried to stay awake but after a few hours past he realized that all he was doing was expending needed energy when he could be saving it, since no one except the owner of the trap would likely let him out. Looking down blearily he saw a wiry gnome staring up at him with a blank look on his face.  
  
The gnome was young and despite his impassive face looked a little bit nervous as he shifted from side to side, unsure of what to do. Finally he shouted perfunctorily in undercommon, "Are you friend or foe?"  
  
Drizzt stared, not knowing whether to sympathize for the obviously bewildered gnome or to laugh in his face. Deciding to do neither Drizzt shouted down in the gnome language, "My name is Drizzt Do'Urden, and I am a friend!"  
  
The gnome looked startled but shouted back in his native language, "Do'Urden went to the surface years ago, prove you are him!"  
  
Drizzt was startled and elated to find that someone knew he yet lived. He knew his most trademark feature even among the drow was his violet eyes. Concentrating deeply he called up his innate ability of faerie fire.   
  
The gnome yelped as a near bonfire of purple fire outlined his figure. He wasn't nearly as surprised as Drizzt was though. Evidently his innate powers were returning as strongly as they were before. Coming back to the present he shouted back down, "There is your proof. Know you any other drow whose eyes are purple?"  
The gnome stared at him with wide, frightened eyes and disappeared back into the darkness.  
  
"Vithe," Drizzt whispered fiercely, now how was he supposed to get out?  
  
This wasn't a problem for very long. About fifteen minutes later the young gnome returned along with a half a dozen other gnomes and... Belwar! He was older, much older, but it was definitely Belwar for only he had two hands fashioned in of Mithral in the shape of a hammer and a pickaxe.   
  
"Belwar! Belwar Dissengulp!" Drizzt called, ecstatic at the sight of his friend.   
  
"Magga cammara! Is that you, Drizzt? Dak here said that somehow a dark elf got past the defenses and was caught in one of the traps, but I thought you were too smart to have been caught," Belwar said jestingly. But the other gnomes did not looked quite as thrilled as Belwar was about the reunion. They eyed Drizzt with open distrust and hostility. Belwar turned back to them and muttered something to quickly for Drizzt to understand. The net dropped suddenly out from under him.   
  
Instead of trying to curl into a controlled fall, Drizzt took a risk and called upon his returning drow power of levitation. To his surprise and relief his fall slowed though it did not stop completely and he landed soundlessly in front of the wary svirfneblin   
  
"Magga cammara, Drizzt, it is you. What are you doing down here? Where are your friends?" he asked.  
  
"They died," Drizzt said as unemotionally as he could, fighting the wave of anguish and fear of the Hunter returning as much as he could.  
  
Belwar looked at him incredulously, "Even the dwarf? How?"  
  
"I traveled with the dwarf for nearly twenty years after his daughter died," Drizzt winced despite himself, "But Bruenor was much aged and heartsick by the death of his adopted children. I now believe he was searching for death as we traveled. We were attacked by a mage who called up imps from the Abyss. Bruenor died slaying the last of them," all of this Drizzt said in a voice so devoid of emotion that Belwar stared at him apprehensively. But he had talked to many veterans of horrible battles and many of them talked in this tone when relating the death of life-long companions or torture at the hands of the enemy. "I was hoping to find you in good health. But tell me, are the gnomes locked within Blindenstone? Are you at war?"  
  
Belwar shook his head, "This is a favorite road used by drow spies since the mine dried up long ago and there is little activity going on here. That why we placed the defenses," he explained gruffly.   
  
Drizzt licked his lips in nervously, "Would it be possible for me to seek sanctuary in your city?" there, it was out.  
  
"Magga cammara, elf, I don't think you could!" Belwar exclaimed clapping his makeshift hands together, "We're being invaded by drow at least once a month now, and there is no love lost between the two. They respect my decisions but not enough to let a possible spy in!" he looked reproachfully at the waiting gnomes.   
  
Something broke inside of Drizzt. His last hope was lost. Turning his face away slightly he dashed tears that had not come from his eyes. "I see," he said slowly and turning on his heels walked in the direction he had come.  
  
"Wait, Drizzt," Belwar called after him but Drizzt already knew that the gnome intended to go with him and would not allow it. With a final glance over his shoulder he resumed the treacherous journey to Menzoberranzan.   
  
A/N: Well, its final. Drizzt is going back and there's someone rather important he's going to meet there (hint: Arabwel asked about him). The plot is going a bit haywire but I think I can pull it together within the next chapter or so. Please review!  
  
  



	6. Old Friends, Old Enemies

Chapter 6: Old Friends, Old Enemies  
  
Disclaimer: Drizzt, Jarlaxle, my special guest and anybody else you recognize belong to RA Salvatore and the author who created my special guest.  
  
A/N: Sorry it took so long! So many fanfic ideas for different books, so little inspiration for this one so before you kill me here's the next chapter... by the way, there's a surprise guest in this chapter, see if you can recognize her... oops! I mean... whoever it is.   
____________________________  
  
And its been awhile,  
since I could... look at myself straight   
And its been awhile,  
since I said I'm sorry   
And its been awhile,  
since I've seen the way... the candles light your face   
And its been awhile,  
but I can still remember just the way the you taste   
  
And everything I can remember   
Is f*#ked up as it always seemed... to me I know this place   
Can I blame this on my father   
He did the best he could for me   
  
It's Been Awhile by Staind  
_____________________________  
Few travelers from the surface ever descended into the Underdark in search of Menzoberranzan and fewer still made it there, using skill and luck to bypass all of the dangers it held, though sometimes they were even slain at the hands of the drow they wished to trade their precious wares with. But those who did make it to the infamous city were inevitably shocked and moved by its beauty.  
  
At a glance it was filled with Elvin splendor that rivaled and even surpassed that of their surface cousins. Soaring towers and pointed spires reaching upward, as if trying to tentatively touch the sky where there was only the caverns ceiling. They looked too fragile to be real, for even the slightest breath of air seemed capable of bringing them down. Those with any mage-sense whatsoever could see the purple and green aura of divine and arcane power that  
ensorcelled and supported the most impossible buildings.  
  
Indeed, Menzoberranzan was beautiful beyond compare to those who knew not or cared not that the mortar for every masterpiece was the blood of slaves. Elves, dwarves, gnomes, from both the surface and below, forced to work until they dropped.  
  
Then there was the ever-present, inescapable darkness that not even a thousand, thousand faerie fires could disperse. It was the darkness of Lolth, brooding and foreboding it oppressed all laughter that was not cruel, all joy that was not in other's suffering and all love that was not for oneself. There was no place for comforting illusions here, no place for the pure, the innocent and the merciful.   
  
"I'm home," Drizzt murmured to himself bitterly.  
  
  
Unlike, or more accurately totally opposite to the majestic and intricate architecture of Menzoberranzan, the South Gate which Drizzt entered was shockingly plain. Built of simple blocks the only adornment lay over unnaturally small doors in the form of a giant spider, at least six feet high.   
  
The gates were manned by but two drow guards but there was no doubt in Drizzt's mind that hidden in the shadows where even the infrared spectrum would not reveal them were perhaps ten times as many fighters, clerics and wizards ready and wary for any disturbance. For unwanted and uninvited guests there would be no audible click of a crossbow or echoes of a muttered dweomer to warn them, for death would come as quickly and ruthlessly as the drow themselves. If invaders managed to pass this wall they would find they had played right into the dark elves' hands, for every drow must be as lethal as the next if he is to survive against is worst enemy: every other drow.  
  
Drizzt was stumped. His shorn hair and torn clothing would indicate a status much too low to claim relation to a powerful house as he had originally intended. Sneaking in was totally out of the question. That left only two options open, scout or mercenary. Scout would by highly suspicious since he was alone which left only mercenary. Banishing any remaining traces of self-preservation (for after all, what had he to live for?) that may ruin his charade, Drizzt approached the guards, his hands crossed over his chest in the symbol of peace.   
  
The guards became, if possible, more alert. One held up a halting hand to the other and approached the waiting Drizzt. Leaning forward as if revealing a secret the guard whispered, "Do' Urden?"   
  
Drizzt's jaw dropped, all of his fabricated identity forgotten. He nodded, a bit stupidly in what looked like the face of death.   
  
The other elf nodded in recognition, "Jarlaxle gave us orders that you were not to be harmed. You may proceed," as if the gravity of his tone had amused him, the guard cracked a smile and said in a slightly louder and much more sarcastic tone, "Welcome to Menzoberranzan," the grin grew wider and winking one unusual gold-colored eye he added, "Enjoy your stay."  
  
Drizzt could hardly contain his mirth but kept a straight face when he noticed the long white braid falling in a straight line down the 'male' drow's back. He realized with a shock that the laughing, golden-eyed dark elf had indeed been a girl and had to pause to compose himself once through the gate, lest he draw attention to himself by exploding into helpless laughter at his own folly.  
  
Drizzt did not recognize the area which he entered very well. As a noble he had rarely entered the seedier parts of Menzoberranzan and this was by far the seediest. There was no comparison to the slums of human cities where if in the slums you were born, in the slums you remained. In the eyes of every drow he saw, Drizzt could see a hungry anticipation for what they believed to be (and perhaps was) in their grasp. Higher station, revenge and a willingness to sacrifice anything to gain them. In Menzoberranzan, rank was attainable if you had but the courage to seize it.  
  
He looked away uncomfortably and kept his gaze down, pointedly ignoring the ravenous stares boring into the back of his neck, causing the short cropped hair to prickle nervously. There was no doubt in his mind that he could deal with any individual drow foolish, or desperate, enough to attack.  
  
But their baleful gazes, filled with an animal-like malice that reminded him all too much of the savagery he felt when the Hunter possessed him, wore at his remaining defenses, wearying him until his shoulders drooped under the weight of their combined glares.  
  
*Have ye lost yer fight, then?*   
  
The rebuke, first said in a place darker and more miserable even then Menzoberranzan, echoed through the lost years until it seemed that his fiery love stood before him, hands on hips, her eyes flashing with frustration, fear and... love, stood before him.  
  
"Oh, Catti-brie," he sighed hopelessly to the specter of his own loss, "If only it were not so."  
  
And somehow, against all possibility, he felt as if this grief was shared. He shook his head roughly to dismiss the unwanted apparition but its presence remained.  
  
*Turn back!* it called though whether it was his own subconscious or some form of madness he knew not.  
  
And he wanted to! Oh, how he wanted to, and the need burned through him with a fire he had not experienced since that flame-haired woman had departed this life.  
  
Drizzt stopped and slowly his gaze swept upward to the intricately carved door, partially hidden in the shadows that marked the entrance of Bregan D'aerthe.  
  
Should he turn back? But no, he had come too far now to turn back. Despite all his efforts, the door hinges shrieked as Drizzt slipped into the lighted foyer and closed the door behind him.  
  
Turning back, Drizzt had just enough time to glimpse to figures, one tall and thin and the other lower to the ground, ready to spring before nearly 600 pounds of black fur and claws came flying at him, pinning him to the ground.  
  
To startled even to cry out, Drizzt stared up in shock at the familiar feline muzzle just before a large (scratchy) pink tongue started licking his face in earnest.  
  
Behind it another face, with a head as bald as an egg and an eye-patch to cover one eye. The drow's lips were turned up in an obvious grin of sardonic amusement.  
  
"What kept you?" Jaraxle asked.  
  
  
A/N: I decided to be nicer to Drizzt in this chapter. Sorry about the delay though I can't make any promises about the date of the next chapter. By the way, the guest was Liriel Baenre and NO she won't be back. Just she has been requested so I decided to give her a whole 5 seconds in the fic. But hey, if you wanna write something on why she's here (cause I didn't work it out) feel free! Oh, and please R&R! 


	7. The Past Unfolds part 1: Frozen

The Past Unfolds: Part 1  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to RA Salvatore and TSR.  
  
Disclaimer: I came to a mental block as to what Jarlaxle would say to Drizzt so I   
decided to go back and actually explain what brought about Drizzt's   
descent. I would have to write it eventually so the next few chapters will be   
various small excerpts from Wulfgar's (2nd) death up to the beginning of the story.   
It is posted in parts because if I don't it will never get posted and this story   
must move onward!  
  
By the way, there is no song at the beginning of this and I don't think any of the   
flashbacks will since they're not the main storyline and I don't need a song to get   
my thoughts focused on them (since they have, in a way, already happened). I   
have also started experimenting with different styles and I hope the content and   
description (if not the length) are better in this chapter.   
  
  
------------------------------------  
  
  
Imagine a snowflake. A single snowflake. Meandering its way downwards   
from the clouds that hang close enough to kiss the earth. A single snowflake in a   
land covered in ice. A cold wind catches it from its downward spiral, sweeping it   
through the air miles away from its intended landing place. It flutters, almost   
joining its fellows on the ground as it swirls by small mountains and giant hills.   
Just as the winds releases it an updraft snatches it away again. Up, up past a   
rocky outcrop until it has reached the top of was it called Bruenor's Climb. There   
stands a woman, though she looks hardly more then a girl, her hair red enough   
to shame the few sunsets that grace this winter realm. She tosses her head   
slightly, allowing the icy wind to whisper down the collar of her large fur coat. She   
does not shiver, she hardly blinks even as the wind blows with all its might   
against her face, drying out her eyes and freezing the tears that straggle down   
her face. The snowflake alights on her brow, glimmer like a star on her pale face   
before her body heat melts it away. Another tear joins the rest.   
  
This is not the first time she has sought solitude on this freezing hill. Nor   
will it be the last. Not while he is here, as a constant reminder of what happened   
and what shall never come to pass. She finally rouses herself to wipe a tear from   
her face, suddenly aware of the cold. She pulls her coat tighter and hunches to   
protect an extra inch of flesh but her feet never budge and she remains staring   
into the wind.   
  
Far below her at the bottom of the climb two figures stand staring up at   
her. The shorter of the two looked like one of the barbarian snow-gods of old   
except where the maroon strands of his hair glare out from underneath their   
white blanket. His eyes were misted and he blinks to clear them, turning slightly   
to hide their presence from his companion but his eyes never leave the solitary   
woman on the hill.   
  
The other seems merely dusted by the heavy snow, a stature carved of   
frozen ebony with ice carved down to its back for hair. The only sign of life are   
the wisps of steam that issue occasionally from his parted lips. He also stares at   
the flame-haired girl, his beloved. But the corner of his eyes are tight with   
anguish, not tears, for though he would die rather then hurt her he knows that his   
very presence is killing her from the inside out.  
  
The shorter one lowers his gaze, shaking is head gently from side   
to side. "She's fadin', Drizzt," Bruenor says, "Or freezin'. Either way she's dyin'   
before our eyes and there is nothing we can do," He heaves a great sigh and   
moves to wipe away a tear that has not fallen. "Wul…his death hit her   
hard, Drizzt, and we were just to blind to see it until now. And it may be too late   
for her to heal, not with the reminders everywhere she looks," he pauses as if   
what he said was significant and gives Drizzt a knowing look. "I'll be leavin' to   
return t' Mithral Hall soon…"  
  
"I will look after her, my friend," Drizzt murmurs almost out of hearing.   
  
"No, Drizzt. Ye won't."  
  
Drizzt suddenly arises from his stupor and gazes in bleary shock at the   
dwarf.  
  
"Come with me," Bruenor commands. He gently but firmly clasps Drizzt   
wrist, leading him away from Catti-brie. Drizzt turns and throws one last   
desperate look over his shoulder at her. How beautiful she is! Carefully he locks   
the image in his mind like a precious jewel… it was the last time he would see   
her for more then a decade.   
  
Bruenor draws back his attention, "She will be alright," an unspoken 'now'   
echoes through the air.   
  
It was but a ten minute walk to the dwarven refuge that Bruenor brought   
him to. Along the way they spoke not a word to each other. They might as well   
have been alone, for all they heard was the savage roaring of the wind and the   
miles upon miles of empty tundra. Alone.   
  
Bruenor moves to light a small fire near the mouth of the cave, still   
ignoring Drizzt as if he were alone. The taller elf was crouches in the confined   
space. He briskly rubs his hands together to bring back the feeling. Bruenor   
crouches to sit across from him, seeming to savor the heat from the fire but his   
lips move imperceptibly, as if reviewing a speech in his mind. The silence   
stretched endlessly until Drizzt realized he must make the first move.  
  
"Bruenor, there is something I must ask you," the dwarf looked up at him.   
"Its about Catti. She's been so quiet lately and… I often wonder if it is because of   
what I am doing or not doing," Another pause but a strange (hopeful?) light   
dawned in the dwarf king's eyes. Drizzt rearranged himself and knelt as best as   
he could in the dwarf-sized cave. "Will…would you look favorably upon…may I   
court your daughter as befits her rank and station?" The light in Bruenor's eyes   
died. He turned away, eyes downcast, a scowl twisting his features.  
  
"Ye durned elf…always goin' an' making things harder then they have to   
be."  
  
"No, Drizzt. I can't let ye marry Catti-brie. I need to talk to ye about her."   
Before Drizzt could say anything he held up his hand for silence. "Ye know how   
bad…me boy's death hit her and…ye waited too long! She can't move on with   
her life because on one hand she doesn't want to betray Wulfgar and on the   
other she can't bare the thought of ye leavin'. She's going to die, Drizzt   
and ye aren't, not for a long time. And maybe ye can pretend it isn't going to   
happen but she can't. Not now, not while the wound is still fresh," Drizzt wanted   
to run, to scream to tell him that it wasn't true and that Catti wouldn't die   
but all he could do was remain mute. "I think ye should leave, Drizzt."  
  
"No…" was the first sound to come rushing from his lips.  
  
Bruenor leapt to his feet, "Damn ye, drow! She won't get better! Not while   
you're here and I won't let ye hurt me girl!" It was like a slap in the face. Burenor   
began to pace. "Not forever. Just a few years. Let her come to terms with his   
death…let her heal. Then ye can come back," he deflated and his hands began   
to shake as if from exhaustion. Silently Drizzt rose to his feet and walked back   
into the storm. He didn't so much as look at Bruenor and when the dwarf was   
sure he was gone sat back down on the cold, hard stone and wept.   
  
--------------------------------------------  
Argh! Drizzt is so out of character! I'm really sorry about that, if you check back I   
might revise it but for now….Please, if you want to see Fallen from Grace ever   
again: review! 


	8. The Past Unfolds part 2: Deception

The Past Unfolds: Deception  
  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to RA Salvatore and TSR.  
  
A/N: I am SO sorry for taking so long to update! Really, I'm trying but I've only just gotten back into Forgotten Realms with the book The Lone Drow which, by the way, is surprisingly like my own story meaning that Fallen from Grace is now an AU the stems from after Servant of the Shard. I will try my best to update more frequently, I've already got another chapter written I just don't have the ones leading up to it done. Anyway, please enjoy the next installation of Fallen from Grace!  
  
  
  
-------------------  
  
Metal clinked softly against metal as Bruenor, ever so carefully, removed fold after fold of the ceremonial armor that he had not worn since his coronation as King of Mithril Hall. It was a beautiful but ultimately impractical for anything other than show. It was far too heavy to wear for a great stretch of time and too elaborate to allow much freedom of movement. Bruenor placed it reverently over the chair beside him and turned back to retrieve the ornate helmet that went with it, this time with a twist of disdain to his lips, seriously considering wearing his own battered helm instead, but he knew he couldn't. Catti-brie was depending on him to be with her in this happy day and he had to put his personal discomfort aside for the moment. The item that followed was much plainer, a smith's apron (still, much too ornamental to be put to practical use. Who had designed this outfit, elves?). Fortunately he would not have to carry the five foot tall urgrosh that came with the set for his own axe, wielded in many campaigns, and had so great a history as to eclipse the shiny urgrosh.  
  
  
  
Once everything ad been removed from the chest Bruenor closed it and surveyed all of the equipment, savoring his last few moments of freedom. A cold wind from the open window sent chills down his spine. Though it was only a small eddy, it held a promise of frigid death that only the wind of the aptly named Icewind Dale could offer. Its promise was somewhat lessened though, for Bruenor had spent the majority of his life here, though he had not lived here extensively for many years, too busy was he with the affairs of Mithril Hall. But of course those affairs would have to wait and all the dwarves left behind had given him their blessing to go to the Dale to see his daughter.   
  
Bruenor lost himself in thought of the day to follow when suddenly a niggling doubt in the back of his head came to the forefront, an instinct that the trained warrior in him had been waving in front of his face trying to get his attention.  
  
He never left the window open.   
  
His error occurred to him in full when he felt a gloved hand clamp down over his mouth. He did the only thing he could do and bit down hard. He took some satisfaction in hearing a soft yelp of pain before diving for the urgrosh propped against the wall. Before he could even take a step a hand grabbed his upper arm and an all-too familiar voice chuckled, "Mielikki, Bruenor! Is this how you greet your friend after three years?"  
  
"Drizzt?" Bruenor said, stunned. A helpless grin stretched across his face at the sight of his oldest and best friend but it was quickly checked by a leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"Yes, my friend," said, his voice soft yet filled with joy that was welling up like a spring. Bruenor began to think very fast. Drizzt had returned! The thought of it filled his heart with joy and trepidation at the same time. This could ruin everything, yet he did not think he could live with himself if he did not risk it, if he did not let Drizzt know. Yet again, the face of Catti-brie, smiling as she had not done since Wulfgar had died drifted across his mind and though the agony of lying to his friend burned him, his instincts as a father were too strong to be overcome.   
  
If he had just come a year later, even a month! But he had not, and who knew what suffering would come of it, if the breach would ever be healed.  
  
"Why so silent, Bruenor?" Drizzt inquired, a sense of unease creeping into the back of his mind at the disturbed expression on the dwarf's face. "Tell me," he pressed, hoping to put the dwarf in a talkative mood, "How fare's Catti-brie? And Regis? Tell me everything!"  
  
Bruenor winced. It was just like Drizzt to get to the heart of the matter.   
  
Drizzt went cold with fear, "Catti-brie, how fares Catti-brie, does she live?!" he shouted, grabbing Bruenor's shoulders, bringing his face level with the dwarf's.  
  
A sense of self-loathing began to grow in Bruenor's heart as he pushed the panicked drow's hands from his shoulders, "Aye, the lass lives," he said and he saw some of the tension go out of Drizzt, "But…" he hesitated, could he really do this? Lie so blatantly to his best friend but then Drizzt's own words, said far away and long ago whispered in his mind. If you've ever loved Catti-brie… it tightened his resolve. Yes, for love of Catti-brie he could do this. "But… she's is not ready to see you, not yet."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Drizzt, honestly shocked, the shock quickly turning to incredulous anger. "It's been three years, Bruenor, four since Wulfgar died!" Bruenor winced at the mention of his boy but Drizzt pressed on, his hurt spurring his anger. "Even when we thought we had lost Wulfgar the first time, when Catti-brie was intended to be his bride she did not mourn this long!" unable to contain his mounting anger he turned from the silent dwarf and stared out the window which he had entered to the impassive stars. For a moment he said nothing but then just loud enough to be heard, Drizzt said in a choked voice, "I have to see her, Bruenor. She is all that kept me going these three years. So many times I almost came back, so desperate was I to hear her voice once more, to be close to her but always I kept myself from returning, for fear of her sanity…" he turned back to Bruenor. "Please Bruenor, let me see her. I will not go without your permission but I must know why you keep me from her."  
  
  
  
It was all Bruenor could do to keep from blurting it out. This was torture of the greatest kind! He could see the honest pain in Drizzt's eyes and it hurt him like a dagger in the gut. Yet he could not say, he could not tell his best friend why he couldn't see his love! All he could do was concoct some foolish lie to drive him away for a month, or as long is it took for there to be no turning back. "Catti-brie… me girl's still not well Drizzt. She's close though," he said, his eyes softening slightly, "P'raps in a month or two. And she will be well enough t' see ye. The halfling is not here," the lies were bitter on his tongue. Rumblebelly would never forgive him if he found out, but it was all the dwarf could do to keep from telling Drizzt himself and he knew he could not convince Regis to keep it from Drizzt. "Not now, Drizzt, but soon," he finished lamely. Unable to meet the drow's eyes anymore he turned away, clasping his arms behind his back, "Ye'd best be going."  
  
  
  
He turned back, his conscience forced him to at least apologize to his friend but Drizzt was already gone the way he had come, for the constant denial by his best friend on top of the concern that kept him from simply blowing past him to see Catti-brie had become to great. He had to be alone to think, and then who knows where. South again probably, to Luskan or further still, perhaps as far as Waterdeep. It didn't matter. He just had to get away. For love Catti-brie.  
  
  
  
With a terrible weight of guilt on his soul, Bruenor turned back to the ceremonial laid out as if mocking him on the bed. As he began to fasten it on his thoughts turned once more to his daughter and her wedding, only a few hours hence.  
  
  
  
  
  
---------------------------  
  
I feel affronted by people who read my work and don't even bother to drop a nice note saying how they felt as much as the next author. You know who you are. So please help a poor, striving authoress and tell her what you think! :) 


	9. The Past Unfolds part 3: Shattered Dream...

The Past Unfolds part 3: Shattered Dreams  
  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to RA Salvatore and Wizards of the Coast.  
  
A/N: Again, sorry about the inordinate amount of time it took to write this chapter. Anyway, here it is and I shall endeavor to post more in the near future.

* * *

Snow swirled around Drizzt Do'Urden as he trod heavily through the streets of Bryn Shander, not bothering to look up into the fierce wind that blew the wetness from his eyes, freezing it further down his ebony cheek. He knew where he was going. If he had been blind he would know where he was going. Despite the bitter cold he nearly floated as he walked. The long wait had ended. Soon he would see his Catti-brie again.  
  
The house where she now lived was not hard to find, indeed he had visited there many times when Regis had been its owner. With the threat of barbarians gone once and for all with the peaceful treaty that lay between the Ten Towns and the tribes, each had begun to thrive. So rich had it become in fact that Cassius sold his house to the princess of Mithril Hall and gone to work on a new manor. Drizzt could not fathom why Catti-brie alone would need so large a dwelling but he supposed that her stature as a hero had perhaps earned her the greatest amount of respect that the Ten Towns could offer. After all, they had done the same for Regis and the plump halfling had done much less.  
  
For a moment he stood outside the door, barely able to contain his growing anxiety. It had been two years since he had last been here, he had planned to come back within a year of Bruenor's banishment but the winter had been hard and few caravans were willing to make the trek north. It had taken nearly 3 months just to travel here, despite Drizzt's impatience.  
  
What would he tell her? Should he make small talk, reacquaint himself with her? What if she was still heartsick? Then what would he do?  
  
During those four long years the realization had stolen over Drizzt that his desire to see Catti-brie was far greater than the excitement he felt to see Regis or Bruenor again. After much soul-searching he had come to the realization that he was in love with her. On the day he had returned two years before he had planned to propose but news of her continuing unstableness had postponed that dream. But now nothing stood in his way, he had been blind for too long, blind to the feelings for her he cherished in his heart and to the feelings she had returned.  
  
Unable to handle the suspense any longer, Drizzt leapt lightly on to the top stair of the entranceway to the large house that had formerly been the residence of the leader of the city. His first knock was soft but then he realized that over the howling of the wind even someone on the other side of the door could not have heard it. He spent the next minute pounding on the hard wood and just when he was about to turn away to find another entrance, the large door opened and a shard of golden light lit up the snow.  
  
A man, at least a half a foot taller than Drizzt, was framed in the doorway.  
  
"I am searching for Catti-brie," Drizzt shouted above the wind, a bit off balance by the appearance of any other beside the fiery redhead he had come to see. Who was this man? A steward, perhaps? A close friend?  
  
"Come inside," the man said hastily, obviously wanting to close the door against the chill. He had not yet seen Drizzt's face but the dark elf felt secure in the knowledge that if this man was any friend of Catti- brie's his disposition would not change once he discovered Drizzt's heritage.  
  
Once inside Drizzt was enveloped in the warmth from the roaring fireplace. Lowering his hood he shook the snow out of his hair then turned an inquiring glance on the man who had let him in. He had been right, obviously the man recognized who he was, for no dark elf had ever come this far north, let alone directly threatened the Ten Towns. There was no one else he could be.  
  
"Greetings," the man said after only a brief pause as he took in identity of his guest, "I am Garien Arvandir, what business do you have with Catti-brie?"  
  
As Drizzt had suspected, the man was half-elf, most likely part sun elf if his golden hair and skin were any indication. Drizzt again wondered what he was doing here and what his relationship to Catti-brie could be, "I am Drizzt Do'Urden, a close friend of Catti-brie's. We have not seen each other in years. I don't suppose you could summon her if she is here?"  
  
"Yes, she is here, most likely she just finished putting the baby to bed. Make yourself comfortable while I go get her," said Garien then strode out of the room. Drizzt hardly noticed his departures, his thoughts locked on what the half-elf had just said.  
  
'Baby?' he wondered, 'Perhaps an orphan that she has taken in, or a dwarf child that needed tending while its parents were away,' his mind supplied. Suddenly the lightness he had felt when he had first entered the room was dimmed by a nagging fear that had firmly established itself at the back of his mind. The sound of approaching footsteps roused him from his thoughts and for a moment he could only stare as the woman he had dreamt about for the past four years was suddenly standing in the flesh before him. Though it had been long, too long, since had seen her last she had not changed at all. He knew in an instant that the dream could never measure up to the reality, the sight of her real, standing right in front of him filled him with joy like no fond memory ever could. "Catti-brie," he whispered. It was all he could say. After so many years of imagining what this moment would be like, of planning what he would say the very sight of her had left him speechless. Only her name, murmured like a prayer, made it past his lips and somehow he knew that that was all he could say, that anything else would be meaningless.  
  
"Drizzt," she said; her emerald eyes lit up with the joyful fire that was one of the many things he loved about her. Then suddenly her face went white and her eyes widened and the pleasant flame guttered out. "What are you doing here?"  
  
The nagging doubt at the back of his mind dropped to his stomach where it sent cold fear like ice through his veins. "I- Catti-brie, what's wrong?"  
  
"I-You... came back, after so long, I-I thought that ye would never return, Drizzt," the shocked expression on her face changed to one of old pain, "Why did ye leave us for so long?"  
  
How could he tell her? How could he tell her that the reason that he had left was because he had feared for her sanity, because Bruenor had told him that his daughter would never recover from the wounds to her heart if he was there tearing them open with his very presence?  
  
"I-I sent out word to all the neighboring cities asking if they had seen ye. I was going to go look myself but me da told me I shouldn't, that you had left to do something important and-and might not come back," Drizzt took it all in but could hardly believe what he was hearing. She had almost come looking for him? How.?  
  
"Drizzt, why did ye abandon us, abandon me?"  
  
"No! I... Catti-brie, I would never abandon you! You were sick. I thought you would never recover and Bruenor said that it was because of me you suffered. I never wanted to hurt you, Catti-brie," he said.  
  
"Then why did ye abandon me when I needed ye most?!" she fairly screamed, tears springing up in her emerald eyes.  
  
"Because I love you," he said, his voice crushed with defeat and sudden knowledge that he could not take in, "And I thought it was the only way to save you."  
  
"You-," her voice faltered, "I knew... I knew you loved me, and I loved you. But Drizzt, you left, and you didn't come back. It was so hard to bear; sometimes I didn't think I could stand the pain of missing ye. But. I finally realized that ye weren't going to come back, I-I had to move Drizzt. I'm human, I didn't have hundreds of years to wait for ye, I..." she averted her gaze, unable to go on.  
  
Drizzt took her hand in his, striving to keep only one emotion in his voice as he spoke, "Catti-brie, I know I've been gone long, too long, but I did it for you. I love you Catti-brie and. I never want to leave you again."  
  
"Oh, Drizzt," she said, her voice quivering with unshed tears, "I-, Drizzt," she raised her eyes to his, those beautiful eyes that had missed for so long.  
  
"Drizzt, I'm married," gently she pulled her hands out of his nerveless fingers and placed her arm around Garien. The half-elf had not yet said anything for there was little he could do in this situation. Placing a reassuring hand on Catti-brie's shoulder he hugged her closer, supporting her with actions if not words.  
  
"When?" was all Drizzt could say. All the feeling had gone out of limbs, his only sensations were the tightness at the back of his throat the made his words hoarse and the leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"Two years ago," she replied.  
  
Two years ago... two years ago when he had come back for the first time only to be driven away again by Bruenor's counsel. He knew he should be angry with his friend for lying to him but he could not summon the emotion. Bruenor had been doing what he thought was best for his daughter, had Drizzt appeared that day... 'She may not have married him,' the tightness at the back of his throat became more constricting, 'but she must love him too, or else she would not have married him. If I had appeared that day she would have once again been torn.'  
  
"Drizzt I can't...there's a child now, Drizzt. My daughter, Kayela." she said.  
  
"I want you to know...I came," he whispered brokenly, "Two years ago, I came. I would have come sooner if I could but when I got here Bruenor told me I shouldn't go see you," he raised his lavender eyes to meet Catti- brie's sea green ones. "That I would cause you pain. So I left again, I wanted to come back when the pain was healed, when I could see you smile again," he smiled weakly at her but he could not stop the quaver in his voice, "That time has come but it seems I am too late."  
  
"I-I should leave," he said and turned back towards the door. He did not want to intrude on them and this happy existence of theirs. For love of Catti-brie he had done everything and for love of Catti-brie he would leave them in peace.  
  
"No, wait, Drizzt," Catti-brie called after him, he stopped. Though he tried to deny it he could not stop himself from pausing to hear her voice one last time, for spending one extra second in her company. She had moved on, now he would have to learn how to. But first he would remember every moment they spent together and lock it away where it could not be sullied by time or anger. He turned to face her once more.  
  
For a moment she said nothing then she smiled wanly around the tears that still glistened down her face, "At least stay the night and... go see Regis before ye go. He has missed ye as much as any of us."  
  
"I shall," Drizzt replied. "And, thank you."  
  
"Ye.should come back sometimes. It's lonely in the Dale without ye here, and the tundra yeti need to be put back in there place," she half-smiled and some of the pain evaporated inside of him. This was the old Catti-brie, the one who had been his closest friend long before she had become his love. If he could not have her love, at least he could have that.  
  
With this in mind he let her guide him to a spare room where he could place his things. She and Garien went to sleep yet he stayed up well into the night. Once his elven ears picked up the sound of their breathing becoming deep and even with sleep he bowed his head, feeling the tremors as all his dreams shattered one by one inside his heart and as they did, he wept for what he had lost.

* * *

As always, reviews are appreciated. By the way, don't hate Bruenor, I wasn't trying to make him evil. He really did do what he thought was best for his daughter. He was just a bit misguided.

* * *

If you want to know more about future updates of Fallen from Grace delete the spaces from the link below or click the link to my homepage on my author page.

http: games. groups. yahoo. com/ group/ Avelerafantasy /


	10. Bregan D'aerthe

**Fallen from Grace**

Chapter 10: Bregan D'aerthe

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to R.A. Salvatore and Wizards of the Coast.

Author Note: Ok, so this story is now super AU as of Servant of the Shard, the last "Drizzt" book I read many years ago (though from what I hear, it may fit surprisingly well between the transition books). Anyway, I'm having some trouble remembering all the details of the Forgotten Realms, unlike when I began this story back in 2001, so please bear with me. Furthermore, after so many years this story is strange to me and I have changed a great deal as a writer since it began. I know that the flashbacks were supposed to continue up to the death of Bruenor, but really the story was getting far too sidetracked, which caused me to abandon it. Nonetheless, I feel guilty for having never finished it and will attempt to do so now depending on reader response, i.e. please review!

* * *

"Guen?" for a moment Drizzt was speechless. The flamboyant mercenary leader forgotten, he threw his arms around the neck of the huge cat and hugged her as if she was a lifeline, weeping unashamedly into her fur. How long since he had lost her! How long since that awful day when he had lost the last of his friends to an insane mage, who with one blow had stolen his sanity along with all he loved. The panther purred thunderously and licked Drizzt's face like a dog, obviously as happy to see him as Drizzt was to see her.

"Ah, Guen! I feared I would never see you again!" Drizzt said hysterically through his tears. It was as if a vast darkness had lifted off his shoulders. He was not alone! In this vast world of bigots and enemies there was at least one who knew him, one who he could call friend.

"How touching," a voice remarked. Drizzt looked over Guen's shoulder and saw the Jarlaxle leaning casually against a wall, his trademark hat at a jaunty angle and the red eye patch on a different eye than Drizzt last remembered seeing it. He felt a split second of panic as he realized that he was effectively pinned by Guen and could make no move to defend himself.

"Truly a marvelous item," Jarlaxle commented, holding up the statuette for Drizzt to see. Drizzt loosened his arms from around Guen's neck, ready to spring at the bald drow and wrestle the item from his grasp. "But if I'm going to have you working for me I can't keep such a powerful artifact from you," he said and moved to toss the figurine but paused and smiled slyly, "Unless you wish to finally take me up on my offer to buy it from you," Drizzt's violet eyes glistened as if on fire. Grinning even wider, Jarlaxle tossed the figurine to him with a flick of his wrist. Drizzt caught it easily and cradled it in his arm as if it were made of glass.

Pushing Guen aside, Drizzt rose to his feet and turned his gaze back to the mercenary leader, "Work for you?" he said sharply, "Why in the Nine Hells would I consider such an offer?"

Jarlaxle's grin disappeared. Without making a sound he approached Drizzt until they were face to face, "Because I know what you are looking for, son of Zaknafein. And it would be a shame to waste such talent as yours to a priestess, a mage, or any other drow who can give you what you want. You search for death, Do'Urden, but you are not ready for it or you would have ended your life already," Drizzt winced and Jarlaxle grinned, knowing that he had touched a nerve. Perhaps Drizzt wasn't all that different from Zaknafein after all. "It would be a shame to waste such talent on any wandering priestess who, with a dagger through your heart, could advance herself in the eyes of Lloth. Fight for me," he paused teasingly, "and maybe you can reclaim something of what has been taken from you."

*Have ye lost your fight then?* once again Catti-brie's words echoed like a call to war in Drizzt's mind. "No," whispered. When he raised his eyes to meet Jarlaxles' again the mercenary leader had to keep himself from stepping back from the sheer ferocity in Drizzt's eyes.

"I will join you."

"Of course," Jarlaxle said and turned to walk away, gesturing from Drizzt to follow him. For a moment Drizzt was caught off balance. Had the mercenary leader known he would join all along? Had he gained any advantage in joining Bregan D'aerthe?

Did it matter?

He had not joined out of any sense of bloodlust, he though as he trailed after Jarlaxle, Guenhwyvar trailing at his side. He cared not who he fought here in the Underdark, he trusted that the svirfneblin had safely locked themselves in their tunnels, avoiding any conflict that he may be forced to fight in. He cared even less who he fought for. Bregan D'aerthe was only a temporary anchor. Perhaps from here, surrounded by renegades of the drow society, he could find a niche from which to survive until, sometime in a future to distant to make out, he would return to the surface and start anew.

But such plans would not aid him here. The Underdark provided little room for dealing with vague futures. All of one's attention needed to be centered on surviving in the present. The future would come when it may.

"You realize that you are a legend here in Menzoberranzan?" Jarlaxle ask, waking Drizzt from his private contemplation. "And I don't mean for the trouble you caused those decades ago when Yvonne Baenre tried to conquer Mithril Hall. You are acknowledged as the greatest weapon master that this city has ever seen," he paused for effect and was not disappointed. Drizzt looked as if someone had hit him in the back of the head with a board. "None here have stood against you with blades and defeated you," he continued, "Which is why I'm putting you in charge of training the new recruits.

"What?" Drizzt exclaimed, rounding on Jarlaxle, who had a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and an evil glint in his eye.

"No favors, Drizzt. You are undeniably the best, but to survive in Bregan D'aerthe you must start from the bottom. I have no doubt you will climb quickly," he stopped outside a plain looking door, "This is your room. However you are no longer safe in Mithril Hall, usst'abbil, if I were you I would sleep with one eye on the door. If I slept at all. The recruits will be waiting for you after eight stages of Narbondel."

Drizzt nodded and opened the door, his ears perked for the sound of traps before catching himself. Jarlaxle could have killed him a hundred times over in their few moments together but had not, he wasn't likely to trap Drizzt's room. The other soldiers now, that was something he would have to worry about once he began to train them. Guen padded inside the room and lay down beside the bed.

"You never said you how you lost that magnificent creature in the first place," remarked Jarlaxle.

"She was stolen from me," said Drizzt, seeing no point in lying. The room was quite Spartan, with only the bed and a wardrobe. Some candles lay unlit on the table, a luxury in the Underdark and one that told him how much time Jarlaxle had had to prepare for his arrival. Likely the mercenary leader had known of his presence since he had left the surface, at least since he had been in Blindenstone. "Some fool mage tried to summon Errtu and failed. Bruenor and I arrived too late to stop him and one of the imps stole the figurine during the battle."

"That explains a great deal," said Jarlaxle.

"Are you going to tell me how you found her?" said Drizzt.

"Now now, I can't be revealing all of my secrets," said Jarlaxle.

"Or any of them, for that matter," said Drizzt. "But I deserve one answer. What ever happened to Entreri?"

"Can't say," said Jarlaxle flippantly, "We parted ways over a century ago. You know he was a human, he's certainly dead by now."

"I see," said Drizzt, "I always thought that one too evil to die."

"Evil, unpredictable, probably a bit mad, but always interesting," said Jarlaxle, "It's been awhile since a non-drow has held my attention for so long. But such is life."

"And what holds your interest now?" said Drizzt.

"Chaos," said Jarlaxle with a gleam in his eye, "I've always liked you, Do'Urden. Even when you are destroying my plans you cause enough chaos to make it interesting. You should probably watch your back while you're here, I can't be protecting you from ever knife in the Underdark."

"I never thought you would," said Drizzt. Jarlaxle acknowledged this with a tip of his ridiculous hat and closed the door.

* * *

There is no such thing as a "green" recruit in the Underdark, even a child plucked off the street would know at least six fatal places to stab an enemy, and probably would have done so already. The difficulty with drow would not be to train them in weapons, but in but teaching them not to turn those weapons on one another.

This Drizzt realized glumly as he faced the row of two dozen new recruits Jarlaxle had placed under his command. Tell a dark elf to destroy a list of enemies and as long as she, or he, did not add you to the list you could reasonably assume the deed would be done. Tell a drow to work with another drow for longer than their personal agendas immediately required and you would have a problem.

Fortunately for him, each of the recruits' personal agendas was, for the moment, to present a façade of obedience while they learned from the greatest swordsman Menzoberranzan had seen in centuries. He could see from their eyes that all of them knew of his exploits in the Underdark, and chances were many of them had lived through the war between Menzoberranzan and Mithril Hall. Here, at least, he had not been forgotten. He would have to keep a close eye on the few drow women in the group, they would have the most to gain from presenting his head to the current Baenre Matron.

"You all know who I am," he finally announced after giving them a moment to squirm, "Which means you know that I would just as soon kill any of you I saw on the surface. My standards are different than yours, and I don't expect any of you to meet them. As far as I'm concerned you are all worthless wastes of life, and the world would be better off without a single one of you. But for the moment my task is to make you more effective at killing your own kind, and that's fine with me. And the first way to do that is to make you stop thinking like them," some of the men had begun to eye him with a certain respect, while the women to a one looked as if they had bitten into something sour.

"I have no doubts that every one of you is an effective warrior. You would not have lasted this long if you were not. My first task will be a simple one. I shall assign each of you to a three-man unit and spend the next week patrolling the Underdark. All you have to do is come back alive. But there's a catch," said Drizzt with a grim smile, "If anyone in your unit dies or does not return with you I will tell Jarlaxle that you are unfit for Bregan D'aerthe and have you cast out. And lest you think that I am sending you into danger that I would not bear myself, I will be shadowing all your groups and monitoring your efforts. You will have other criteria as well. Stay too close to Menzoberranzan and I will fail you. Kill a svirfneblin or a pech and I will fail you," there were some murmurs of disgruntled confusion at this, "Attempt to disqualify other teams by killing one of their members and I will fail you. And I will know." His violet gaze swept the recruits. Some looked thoughtful, while others were annoyed. "Are there any questions?"

One of the females stepped forward, "Yes. What exactly is the point of this little field trip?" she said disdainfully.

"I would have thought that would be obvious," said Drizzt, "You are no longer in your House, nor are you a free agent. Bregan D'aerthe is your House now and your loyalty to one another is more important to the band than any individual feat you might achieve alone. There will be no heroes in this exercise, a unit will succeed or fail as a whole."

"But you are a weapons master," she retorted, with a tone that place the position somewhere below scullery boy, "Won't Jarlaxle be expecting you to teach us how to fight?"

"What Jarlaxle does or does not expect is none of your concern, and you likely wouldn't understand him even if you tried. He gave me command of your unit, so I will do as I see fit. Anyone else?" said Drizzt, shifting his attention from the indignant female. Silence greeted his query. "Fine, I will select the groups and send you out. You have one hour to prepare and meet me at the northern gate of the city. From there you will disperse, and you will not be returning here for a week, if you return at all. Dismissed."

The recruits scattered and Drizzt watched them go, some turning to look at him, some with curiosity and others with carefully blank expressions.

"I never took you for a drill sergeant," came Jarlaxle's voice from behind him after all the recruits had left. Drizzt started, the other drow had not made a sound.

"I have been in armies before, and I have trained others. Skill with a blade is the least of what they will need," said Drizzt.

"Well, most of them _were_ expecting it. They are the best fighters in Bregan D'aerthe," remarked Jarlaxle.

"You said they were new recruits," said Drizzt with an edge of irritation in his voice.

"Some of them are, but I thought it best that I let you lord it over them a bit," said Jarlaxle with a smirk, "You struck the right tone, though I am curious to see how your little exercise plays out. I assume you have something more up your sleeve?"

"I'm not you," retorted Drizzt, "I had thought the patrol would be enough for raw recruits, but I suppose now I'll have to add something to make it worthwhile," at the thought of this a small smile spread across his face. Giving the cream of Bregan D'aerthe's fighting force a taste of humility would not be such a bad thing. True that some of them had survived in the Underdark before, but no drow he knew of had survived there as long as him, and if Jarlaxle thought him skilled enough to train them then he likely held the advantage in skill as well, so long as he was careful.

He glanced to the lights of Narbondel and saw that the time he had to meet the force was dwindling. He nodded farewell to Jarlaxle and returned to his room, double-checking the packs he had prepared of food and what supplies he would need in the wild. Guenwhyvar's figurine he placed in hidden pouch deep within the pack. Never again would he risk losing his oldest friend.

It was not until he had left the Bregan D'aerthe complex and made it halfway to the north gate that he realized how alive he felt. True they were dark elves, and likely stood in opposition to every principal he held dear. But for the first time since… since he had awoken from the Hunter, he felt alive. He had a purpose again. The future was still dark, but it did not concern him. For a little while it would be like the old days, stalking the Underdark with Guenwhyvar at his side. He found the prospect unexpectedly appealing.

*Am I betraying their memories?* He wondered but could think of no certain answer. Surely they would not have been overjoyed to hear of his return to Menzoberranzan, but none of them could have imagined what would befall him in the decades that followed their passing. Perhaps it would be enough for them to know that he was, if not happy, at least content and free of the madness that had followed him for longer than he dared calculate.

It would not be enough for long, but at least for now it would have to do.

* * *

Whether or not I continue beyond this point is entirely reliant on the response I receive. With that in mind, please review!


End file.
